


Over the Misty Mountains' Cold

by Paralelsky



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ending Fix, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paralelsky/pseuds/Paralelsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield survived the Battle of the Five Armies, but he never got the chance to mend the rift between him and  Bilbo Baggins. </p><p>And then, five years later, there was a loud knock on Bilbo's door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Misty Mountains' Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I went and saw "The Hobbit: An unexpected journey" twice, each time getting more excited about the movie until I remembered the end of the book - and that kind of got me down. Then I reminded myself that I am a fanfic writer - no matter how rusty and talentless - which sent the plot bunnies spinning. And a month, two rewrites and three revisions later I was able to present you with this fic. Please enjoy! :")  
> Also this is my first fic in the Tolkien fandom, I hope I didn't butcher it too much. Oh well, you'll be the judge of that!  
> Beta'ed by the wonderful llLethell - you'll find her incredible work on ff.net, the Merlin section.

“Come now,” said Gandalf, while sitting in front of a tent, left arm wrapped in bandages, “Thorin is hurt and has been asking for you.” he made a move to get up while Bilbo rushed to his side.

 “No, don’t. I’ll go meet him alone.”

The wizard looked him straight in the eyes, as if checking his resolve and then he nodded before settling back comfortably. “Perhaps it would be for the best, if you two could talk it out without anyone interfering. Go on, my boy.” 

Taking in a shaky breath, Bilbo did just that, weaving between dwarfs, elves and humans until a more richly decorated tent came into view. On top of it a banner with the mark of Durin flew lazily in the stilted wind, but the biggest clue that this was his destination came from the two dwarfs armed to the teeth that stood sentry. They frowned at him as he approached the tent, but made no move to stop him until he was just a few feet away. Only then, they tensed, thick brows furrowed as they gripped their axes more tightly and Bilbo felt his courage almost leaving him.

But he was no longer the hobbit he had been all those months ago when a company of ill-mannered dwarfs had intruded in his home and got his carefully constructed life upside-down. He had faced wargs, orcs, a dragon and the fury of a king. Keeping that in mind he straightened his spine, commanded his tired legs to stop twitching with fatigue and called in a barely wavering voice: “Bilbo Baggins, I’m here to see the king.”

If they knew who he was, they showed no sign of it except for looking more menacing than before. They were at a stalemate, Bilbo refusing to be intimidated and the dwarfs refusing to allow him entry when the front cover of the tent flapped to the side and a third dwarf entered the scene. Clearly someone of importance, judging by the way the others had subtly changed their posture in deference, the dwarf wore high quality chain mail that would have glowed like silver if it weren’t so dirty with mud and blood. His long hair had carefully placed braids and on his brow a golden circlet was settled. But the most intimidating thing about him was the glower that he was currently sending towards the tired hobbit.  

“Bilbo Baggins, you said?” the dwarf gripped the handle of his sheathed sword, and Bilbo almost backed away in fright at the dislike the other seamed to radiate in his direction.  “I know who you are for my cousin has spoken of you plenty. The burglar he had hired, a liar and a thief.”

Bilbo dry-swallowed because he understood that the one standing between him and Thorin was none other than Dain of the Iron Hills, and he was the most likely to be updated to the happenings of the Company without being one of them.

 “You might have heard of me, but that doesn’t mean you know me. I did what I was hired to do,” he bit out with more courage he felt he possessed at the time. Last spring it would have been unthinkable that he would try and pick up a fight with an angry dwarf, but much had changed in between. He was not the hobbit he had once been. “And I’ve been told that the King wanted to speak with me. That’s why I’m here.”

“To speak to the king?” Dain harrumphed, “I don’t think you have anything to say to him. You saved his life and then betrayed him, and we dwarfs don’t look kindly on folk like that. And maybe now you would like to ask for his forgiveness but I reckon you must be here for your treasure.”

“What?” with the thoughts of treasure so out of his mind that for a moment Bilbo didn’t even realize what the other was saying, the hobbit felt caught on the wrong foot. His incredulous expression however only served to infuriate the dwarf more.

“The price of the Arkenstone that you’ve stolen. Go talk to your allies if you want a part of it.”

“This isn’t about some bloody treasure.” Bilbo swore, getting frustrated on his own right. “I know what was promised and to whom, and it’s fine. All I want is to talk to the king if you don’t mind.”

The dwarf just stared at him for a long moment, almost disbelieving that someone would dismiss with so little thought what so many have fought to conquer. “You just want to talk to the King?”

“Yes, to say goodbye, since I’ll be getting back to my home now.” - **_and to tell him how sorry I am that things have come to this end_ ** \- Bilbo kept the final part to himself, the thought  too intimate to be voiced in the falling rain in front of unfamiliar dwarves that were far too prone to judgment.   

“That is not possible.”

“What? Just let me in for a moment. I swear I’ll be gone before he even knows I was there.”

“There’s no need. The king’s injuries are too severe, so the healers have put him into enchanted sleep until his body mends. No one can tell when he’ll wake up, or if he will at all. ”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, fight leaving him as he unclenched his fists. He hadn’t realized but he had been willing to come to blows to be granted access, only to find out that would have been unnecessary. “I see,” he whispered, his shoulders slumping, then pulling his cloak closely around him to fight off the chill, he said at last, “In that case I wish him health and many years to rule under the mountain.  Good day, master dwarf!” he bowed shallowly and then disappeared between the other tents faster than the dwarfs watching him would have thought possible.

And it would take many years for any of them to see that particular hobbit again. Yet, just as he and his companions cleared out the last vestiges of Mirkwood, in a stone chamber the king stirred. And reminiscent to another time when he had woken up from a death-like sleep, his first words were after watching the joyful faces of his companions gathered around him, “The Halfling. Where is he?”

_**…Five years later…** _

“Thorin, are you sure?” asked Balin, from where he was leaning against a stone pillar while watching the king as he supervised the travel preparations from above. Paying his advisor as much attention as he did to the wind sweeping his dark locks behind him, the king harrumphed as he saw the last of the travel ponies being saddled. Dwarves armed to the teeth walked, talked or just smoked in a corner, the excitement they felt for going on a journey visible on many faces.

“Thorin,” Balin tried once again to reason with his king.

“I hear you, Balin. And were you anyone else, I would have long banished you from my presence for questioning my judgment so. But what would you have me do?” Thorin asked, finally turning towards his most trusted advisor. “I am a king who hasn’t paid all his debts. Until this matter is settled, I cannot find my peace.”

“I understand, my lord, and I agree with you. But please send somebody else in your stead, for a caravan this large will surely draw up the wrong attention.” Even as he presented his arguments, Balin knew he wouldn’t be listened to. He had tried before, ever since the king had presented him with the plan and he had been largely ignored.

“No, Balin. That isn’t something I can do, for this matter has been left to fester for too long. Only myself would do in this case.” And with these words, Thorin clasped Balin by his upper arms and looked him straight in the eyes. “I leave my kingdom in your capable hands. Watch it for me until I return.”

“I will see it done, my King.” Said Balin, head bowed with respect. In response Thorin squeezed his shoulder once again and then let go, turned away and disappeared into the mountain. Behind him Balin let out a sigh and settled on the stone crenels to better watch the caravan leave.  Despite his misgivings he knew it was time his king settled the matter once it for all.  

 xxx

“I'm coming, hold down your horses,” grumbled Bilbo when the second round of knocking filled the silence in his house. The first one had startled him badly enough he had spilled some ink on the new journal he was starting, so it was with a scowl that he pulled open the door, ready to give whomever was outside a piece of his mind.

_**He had just painted the door.** _

The sight waiting for him caught the words in his throat, and for a moment he just stood gaping like a fish before he stammered a whispered, “My king”, and quickly bowed. Heart hammering in his ears, he kept the position while his mind ran from one thought to another, but always returning to one persistent question – What was the meaning of this? -  as resplendent in rich fur, and looking more regal than ever before,  Thorin Oakenshield stood in front of him, an unfathomable look held in his eyes.

“Burglar.” He rumbled and Bilbo held on the urge to take cover. Slowly he straightened, almost afraid he was committing a wrong move, when the king under the mountain continued with the same tone. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked, one royal eyebrow climbing to his hairline.

Feeling himself blush to the tips of his pointy ears for his lapse in manners, Bilbo stammered a, “Please, come in!” and pushed the door more open. Only then he noticed the group of dwarfs sitting on the road just beside his house and watching him with amusement, in some cases, and not small amount of curiosity. Some he knew, as one of two waved cheerfully, but most of them he had never seen in his life, and their sight only deepened his unease. “Would also your companions want…” but Thorin interrupted him before he could further extend the invitation. “There’s no need for that,” he said as he stepped into the house and then waited for Bilbo to show him around. “For the time being, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Bilbo gulped, watching Thorin for any clues regarding his mood, but when the king only looked expectantly back, he remembered his once again forgotten manners and guided his guest to his study and his most comfortable armchair. “Can I get you anything? Perhaps some tea?” he asked, hands itching with the need to be doing or holding something.

Thorin just shook his head and pointed to the chair in front of where he was sitting. “Sit.” He commanded and Bilbo, left without anything else to do, quickly complied. He then clasped his hands in front of him, willing them to stop trembling. “You said,” he squeaked and then had to clear his voice, wincing - because he hadn’t been a teen in many years, he had no business sounding like one - “…that you have unfinished business with me.”

“Yes, I have,” said Thorin and then leaned forward a little, giving the fretting hobbit his whole attention. “We parted our ways on less than friendly circumstances, master burglar, the last time that we spoke. And is has been pointed out to me that I never gave you the chance to fully explain. So tell me, Bilbo Baggins, why have you stolen the Arkenstone?”

_**The Arkenstone, of course everything would go back to that.** _

Oh, how Bilbo wished he had never set eyes on the bloody stone, and how could he explain what he had been trying to do, to prevent, when in the end everything had been for naught? What excuse could he give for essentially committing treason, no matter how many good intentions might have guided his hands? His traitorous hands that trembled even now, while tightly clasped, and provided with no answer no matter how hard he stared at them.

Perhaps, he reasoned, it would be best to tell the truth. He had no excuses to give, not anymore. “Ah, there isn’t much to say really.” He paused, searching for the words that had escaped him before. A thousand times he had imagined this conversation, and now that was actually happening, he was getting tongue-tied.

_**Where was his courage when he needed it?** _

“All I wanted was to prevent you from getting hurt, fat lot of good that did. But you all seemed so caught up in the treasure, and all I saw was death and destruction. So I…wanted to keep you safe. ” Tensing so much that his knuckles were completely white, Bilbo stumbled on with his confession “And I knew you would get mad. I knew, and did it anyway, because I hoped you’d at least give me the chance to explain. And to ask for your forgiveness. But even if you didn’t, I would have rather have you alive and angry at me, than otherwise…”

There, he said it and waited with baited breath for the feeling of relief to come from letting all out, when all he could fell was actually his stomach trying to twist itself in a hundred knots. If only Thorin would say something, but he was too cowardly to lift his head and look the king in the eyes. Caught in his musings he almost jumped out of his skin when Thorin let out a loud sigh and then continued in a tired and strangely pained tone. “So it is how the others have said. And I have been far too blind to have misjudged you over and over again. Tell me, master Baggins, how could I make my amends?”

That was not what Bilbo had been expecting, and the sheer surprise caused him to straighten in his chair, certain that he had misheard. Surely, the king hadn’t meant what he had just said, but one look at Thorin’s strangely open expression and he felt himself lost for words. Eventually he whispered in wonder, “You believe me.”

“Yes, my burglar, I do. And for my past actions I must apologize. That is why I have come all the way here. That, and to give you your part of the treasure.” And Thorin made a move to get up from his chair just as Bilbo’s mind caught up with the words spoken. He leaped from his chair and caught the dwarf by one hand, stopping him from getting up further. “What? Hold on, what treasure?” he said quickly, hoping the king hadn’t meant what he said, because that could be a disaster.

Except that judging by the way Thorin was looking at him and at his hands still gripping the royal person, Bilbo felt his hope wither and die. “No, no, no…Please tell me you didn’t bring it here!”

Thorin frowned. “Of course I did. It was your share that you refused to claim. Why did you refuse it, and take only enough for a pony to carry? Or have my actions embittered you so, that you would want no reminder of your adventure?” _**Of us**_ \- fell unspoken between them but clear enough to be heard nonetheless.

“No!” Bilbo was quick to refute the claim, seeing how the king’s eyes were getting darker and stormier. He was making such a mess of things, when all that he wanted was to finally make peace. “Please, my king, listen to me. It wasn’t that I hated it” - _**only that he kind of had** _ – “it’s just that there’s no place in the Shire for a treasure such as that. We hobbits like the simple things in life, our food and our families, and to bring all that gold in here would have only asked for trouble.”  And only Iluvatar knew what kind of trouble would even a small fraction of the treasure stir in the Shire and the towns surrounding it. Bilbo shuddered at the thought, because no matter how much he disliked his relatives, he loved the Shire too much to be the cause of that.

“No, the treasure belongs in Erebor.” He concluded, firm enough to make Thorin listen. But to his surprise that only served to make the king tense, as his eyes became flinty and all emotions fled from his face. “So you won’t allow me to make my amends. Tell me, master Baggins, what you would like instead, if it’s not part of the treasure that I would freely give.” Thorin’s words felt clipped, as if he had forced himself to tell them, and it was Bilbo turn to frown. Why was the king sounding almost hurt, and what could Bilbo ask for, that would settle the matter once it for all?

 _ **Nothing**_ sat on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that was not an acceptable answer to a dwarf. He understood Thorin’s need to make amends and seriously was quite happy about that because it meant that maybe they could be friends again when suddenly he knew what to ask. It was something he had hoped time and time again he could still have, and this time maybe his hopes would become true. “Perhaps, there is one thing you can give me.” He said, barely speaking around the lump that had taken residence in his throat. His voice, he was almost proud to notice, barely wavered. “Something that I would give all the treasure in the world to have back.”

Thorin made no sound, still as a statue in front of Bilbo. Something deep lurked in his dark blue gaze and had Bilbo been watching maybe he would lost the courage to voice his request. As it were, Bilbo was facing the window, instead of his guest, and was taking his sweet time before saying it all.

 “What would you have me give you?” Thorin asked when it seemed the hobbit wasn’t going to say anything else.

“I want back,” Bilbo swallowed, incredibly nervous, “your friendship.”

Something changed in the air between the as the last word left his lips. Like ice thawing in spring, the tension left Thorin shoulders, but a new weariness entered his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Oh”, breathed Bilbo, feeling like someone had reached out and squeezed his heart. _**So much for that dream**_ , he thought and then had to blink rapidly to clear something from his eyes. He bowed his head. Thorin carried on, as if he hadn’t been watching the Halfling like a hawk. “I can’t give it back to you, because it has never been truly taken away.”

Bilbo quickly raised his head, eyes shining from too many repressed tears. “But you said that no friendship of yours would go with me, that day at the Gate.” His voice almost broke on the last words and Thorin winced at hearing his own words thrown back at him, conscious that hasn’t been his finest moment. “In truth I’ve regretted my words before the day had been over. But stubbornness and pride had long been my companions, and maybe I wanted to make you suffer just as you made me suffer when you went behind my back.”

“I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am about that,” whispered Bilbo, dipping his head once again. “Is that why I didn’t hear from you for so long?”

Had he been watching he would have been treated with the rare sight of Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain looking chagrined. “No, it wasn’t about that. Had you been there when I awoke, we would have had this conversation five years ago. But this was an apology I couldn’t have made by letter, and until recently, for me to leave Erebor was unconceivable.”

“What changed?”

“The restoration is all but finished, there’s someone I trust ruling in my stead, but Gandalf came to visit bearing some grave news.”

“News from Gandalf?” Bilbo’s eyebrows climbed all the way to his hairline watching Thorin almost fidget. Of course he wasn’t physically doing it, he had too much self-restraint to do that, but the impression he gave was overwhelmingly so.

“Yes, the wizard might have implied you were on your death’s door.”

“That was a bit extreme, even for Gandalf. Why on earth would he have said that? Oh!” exclaimed Bilbo remembering feverish dreams from a very nasty bout of flu he had been under two months before. He had thought he had heard the wizard once or twice during that time, but by the time the fever had left him the old man had been nowhere to be found and Bilbo had dismissed them as mare fancy. Perhaps he had been too quick to do that. He let out an amused sigh and then explained the whole misunderstanding to Thorin, politely ignoring the way the last vestiges of tension left the broad shoulders of his guest.

Still there was one thing he needed to make clear. “Then are we still friends?” he asked, ignoring that part of mind that pointed out he sounded far younger than he had in years, but the point was too important to be left ambiguous.

“Yes, I am still your friend if you will have me,” Thorin confirmed with a small smile that reached his eyes and filled them with warmth.

“Then you must be staying for dinner. I’ll go fetch the others and then clear my pantry.” Said Bilbo and then almost started to run to the door, a spring in his steps that had been missing for far too long.

Watching him go with fond eyes, Thorin shook his head at the easy acceptance of his apology and wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if he hadn’t been so blinded by the treasure that day at the Gate and had he truly listed what the burglar, _ **no, his friend**_ , had been trying to say. And hearing the loud cheers and welcomes coming from the hobbit’s front door he thought that maybe all was not lost and he still had the time to found out.

**THE END.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed it, and I would love to hear your opinion about it. Thank you!~ Para


End file.
